


It Won’t Be Like This For Long

by jagnikjen



Series: The Chronicles of Blake Moran [12]
Category: Madam Secretary
Genre: Blake has a hot hockey boyfriend, Blake has a hot hockey husband, Five Times, Future Fic, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Oliver and Blake have a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-03-23 13:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13789101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jagnikjen/pseuds/jagnikjen
Summary: Blake and Oliver have hired a surrogate to carry a child for them. Jocelyn Isabella Moran is the most beautiful little girl in the whole wide world, but she’s still your average everyday baby, toddler, pre-schooler...Four times Blake and Oliver deal with a crying child and one time they don’t have to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Oliver get married December 23, 2018.
> 
> Jocelyn Isabella Moran is born July 9, 2019.

**July/August 2019**

Blake's head falls forward and jerks backwards. He sits up and swipes a noodle-y arm across his mouth. “’M ’wake.”

Jocelyn is still crying, bless her heart.

“Blake, just go to bed, sleep,” Oliver says. “I’ve got this.”

He looks around with bleary vision and his eyelids feel like sand paper over his eyes. “I don't want to leave you.” His eyes are so heavy, though; they feel like they’re tugging his whole head forward.

The volume and trajectory of Jocelyn's cries change and Blake blinks his eyes open—when had they closed?—to see Oliver kneeling in front of him, his large warm hands sliding up and down Blake’s thighs.

“Listen to me,” Oliver says sternly. “I appreciate we’re in this together. But this is more of a tag team effort right now, okay? We need to take turns. We can't both be so exhausted so as to not be able to care for the baby. Please; go to bed.”

Blake nods; he can't fight sleep any longer no matter how much he wants to.

Oliver pushes upright and tugs Blake to standing. With an arm around Blake’s shoulder, Oliver guides him down the hall and into the unmade-for-the-fifth-day-in-a-row bed. Jocelyn's cries fade as they go. The comforter is tucked around him and soft lips press a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep as long as you need.”

“Mmm…”

Blake barely registers the click of the door closing or the silence before he’s dead to the world.

***

Blake gently jiggles his crying daughter as he makes his umpteenth pass through the house. He really wants to dig out his earbuds, but feels guilty about it. If Jocelyn feels so strongly about whatever riles her up each night, he feels like he needs to listen.

The pediatrician assured them that crying jags of this sort were normal for some babies. She'd assured them that nothing else presented itself as a symptom of a more serious issue, but encouraged them to call her if they felt that changed. Unfortunately but thank God nothing did, so Blake and Oliver are taking turns on the night shift, napping together during the day when Blake doesn’t have to show his face at work.

Jocelyn's cries finally deescalate to shuddering whimpers and Blake breathes a sigh of relief. He might get to climb in bed with Oliver for a couple of hours. If he's really lucky, they might get to exchange lazy hand jobs. Those haven't been as regular an occurrence as he'd like. But the choice between having Jocelyn and enjoying more sex isn't a choice at all. The expression on Oliver's face when a red-faced squalling newborn was placed in his arms was unforgettable and worth six months—okay, maybe only three months—of sex; but cripes, he hopes it's not going to be that long.

Blake hums and eases into the padded rocking chair and puts his feet up, pushing them into slow motion, back and forth, back and forth. He gazes down into the mottled face of his baby girl. Her tiny lips purse a few times and she releases a sigh bigger than she is. At three weeks of age, she’s almost to, but not quite, the pretty newborn look as advertised in magazines and on tv, but she’s the most beautiful baby he's ever seen.

He gives it five minutes. He really wants to snuggle with Oliver for a bit even if that's all they do. The sleepies are catching up with him now that he's been still for more than thirty seconds.

***

“Hi, Blake, hon—”

“When’s it gonna end?” Blake asks his mother. He’d been warned, but seeing as how he hadn’t carried Jocelyn in his body for nine months, he thought he'd have been more immune.

His mother chuckles.

At almost five weeks Jocelyn's not crying near as much, but she's awake in the middle of the night now instead.

“I want my normal life back,” Blake whines.

His mother laughs, actually laughs, at him. He's tired and grouchy. So he likes his routine. Sue him. It keeps him on an even keel. He is most decidedly not on an even keel at the moment.

“Sweetheart, you will never go back to that normal again. A new temporary normal will sort itself out soon. I promise.”

He closes his eyes and thunks his head lightly against the fridge. God, he hopes so.

“Blake, listen to me… some of my favorite memories are of holding my babies in the middle of the night, while you were asleep, sure; but especially when you were awake. When it was just the two of us in the wee small hours, gazing at one another in the dim illumination of a nightlight or a candle. That's bonding time and it lasts forever. Don’t try to rush through the moments, Blake. It won't be like this for long.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isä is Finnish for daddy. Pronounced "ee-sah".
> 
> Oliver's teammates as referenced in the fic who have children: Jason Spezza, Dallas Stars forward; Kari Lehtonen, former Dallas Stars goalie, and Ben Bishop, current Dallas Stars goalie.

**February 2020**

“Da da da,” Jocelyn cries over and over over around her chubby fist. Drool dribbles down her arm, her shirt is soaked, as is the receiving blanket Blake’s using as a super large bib.

His head pulses in time with her constant lament. His arms are tired of carrying her around, but if he puts her down, she wails.

It’s been a week, more or less. One tiny white tooth has pushed through her bottom gum, but her gums are still swollen and red and it looks as if _all_ her teeth are working to make an appearance.

“Da, da, da…” she sobs. Blake’s arms had fallen still, and he starts up the jiggling again.

Oliver’s been gone on a short-ish road trip—five days—and should be back any time now. Blake just wants to plop Jocelyn into Oliver’s arms and take a shower or go to the gym. Anything to get away from the constant cranky, whining child he’s lived with since Oliver left. The timing couldn’t have been worse. It’s like she knew.

 _“Daaaa…”_ She rubs her fist in her eyes, dragging slobber and snot all over her face. Blake kisses the top of her warm fuzzy head and, with a dry corner of the blanket, wipes her face off.

It’s not like he didn’t know he’d be doing the heavy lifting as far as Jocelyn was concerned when they decided to forge ahead and have a kid. He and Oliver had talked about it. Many times. Oliver had insisted he talk to some of the wives. Spezza and his wife had four daughters— _four_ —and Blake thought she was a saint. Jennifer hadn’t sugar coated it. Kari’s wife had said much the same. Bish’s wife, too.

Blake had gone into this with his eyes wide open, but he’d never spent much time with babies, not even his nieces and nephews. He’d severely underestimated the… _everything_. Not that he’d trade it for anything. But he’d kill for some silence.

“Da, da, da…”

“I know, baby, I know it hurts.” Blake makes his way to the kitchen and rubs some more teething gel in her mouth. It seems to help for all of five minutes—until all the drool washes it off and out.

Blake sighs.

Keys jangle in the front door and he and Jocelyn both look toward the sound.

Blake is moving before he quite realizes it.

“Isä,” Jocelyn yowls and reaches toward the sounds of Oliver arriving home, throwing her weight forward; Blake has to adjust his grip to keep her from taking a header into the laminate floor.

Oliver’s just settling his rolling suitcase and garment bag down in the foyer. He looks up and grins and in two steps wraps them both up in his long arms. Blake can’t help the relieved sigh. He breathes in the stale airplane smell and lingering cologne. Jocelyn squirms between them, trying to climb into Oliver’s arms, but Oliver tilts Blake’s face up.

He searches Blake’s face, his gaze. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you.” His lips are soft and then more insistent. Blake’s heart melts as it always does, because as important as their daughter is—

“Isä, me. Isä, me.”

—Oliver always, always makes sure to let Blake know how loved and cherished he is. The kiss, while relatively short—there _is_ a wriggling child between them—is still thorough. “You’re doing important work, kultsi. It won’t be like this for long.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating goes up in this chapter to mature. If you don't want to read the sex, skip from >>“I missed you.”<< to >>A wail sounds from down the hall.<< and you should be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last couple of chapters aren't written at the moment, so it might be longer than a day for the next chapter to get written and posted... I'm going to try, but the end/beginning of the months are busy at my job, so...

**October 2020**

Blake breathes the quietest sigh of relief that he can and tiptoes backwards away from Jocelyn’s toddler bed. God, he hopes Oliver’s still awake. Road trips are a part of their lives—have been since they met. Until they’d had Jocelyn, though, they’d never bothered Blake like they do now. And it’s not that he can’t handle being a single parent for ten days when necessary, it’s the lack of private time when Oliver’s home that kills him. That’s a new thing this year.

There’s a clatter as he hits a couple of Duplo blocks with his foot. Blake’s stomach drops and he freezes, glancing at Jocelyn. She shifts in her sleep, rubs a curled fist across her flushed face. Her eyes flutter. Blake holds his breath. She settles back into sleep with a sigh. With an eye on the monitor and a scan of the floor behind him, he successfully navigates his way out of her room. He can’t even chance putting up the gate or closing the door completely. Her sleep has been so light for the past week, anything seems to wake her. A product, he thinks, of Oliver's sudden absences. At least from her perspective.

But she's asleep now and Blake has a husband to ravish. His heart hammers in his chest as he hurries down the hall. He pulls off his shirt and unfastens his trousers. He wants sex dammit. It’s been twelve days. Oliver played beautiful hockey while he was away. Blake never knew that he’d be that turned on by sports, but he’s got a competency kink and, well, Oliver’s very good at what he does. And he’s hot. Not many hockey players have the looks to go along with their physiques, but Oliver does. Boy, does he.

Blake stops short in the doorway to the master suite. Disappointment settles like an anchor in his stomach. Oliver’s lying still, naked and spread eagle across their king size bed, post shower. Blake banks the rush of want. Oliver’s been traveling and playing good, hard hockey. Of course he’s exhausted. A hot shower and his own bed had been a just reward.

Love fills Blake’s chest and he lets his disappointment bleed away. Miles of golden skin beckon Blake forward however. Even if Oliver is asleep, Blake can still be close. He sheds the rest of his clothes and settles himself gently next to Oliver.

Oliver sighs and rolls, wrapping himself around Blake. “She ‘sleep?” he murmurs, nuzzling the curve of Blake’s neck and shoulder.

“Mmm…you can sleep too, babe.”

“I missed you.” Oliver’s words whisper across his chest. Kisses follow. Warm wet heat closes around Blake’s nipple and he gasps, arching into Oliver’s mouth. Oliver nips and tugs on one tiny peak and pinches the other.

“Oh, guh,” Blake gasps. “I missed you too—ah.” He pants as Oliver kisses his way down his body. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was dozing, but then here you were and how could I resist you naked?”

Oliver takes Blake’s rapidly firming dick in his hand and then his mouth.

Blake fists the sheets and resists the urge of his body to thrust into Oliver's mouth. Broad shoulders force his legs wider. Oliver’s mouth and tongue do nasty dirty things to Blake’s body and he loves it. Oliver bobs a little faster, saliva adds moisture to everything and Blake breathes heavy in the darkness. God, yes… This is what he’s been looking forward to. Or him blowing Oliver. Either way. Neither of them have a strong preference. It's the intimacy that matters.

A finger circles his hole and he jerks in surprise and cries out. And, oh, yeah, he wants that. “Please, yes.”

A wail sounds from down the hall.

“Shit.” Blake's sexual high drains away, his erection deflates, and he sags into the bed. Oliver pulls off and chuckles into the crease of Blake’s thigh and groin.

“Da da da.” Jocelyn’s voice and crying moves closer.

“So much for welcome home nookie.” Blake reaches for his briefs which he remembered to drop right next to the bed for this very reason and shimmies into them.

Oliver fishes in the bedside table drawer for his and they're both suitably covered when Jocelyn stumbles through the door.

Because of Jocelyn, there are nightlights everywhere and it's never really dark in any room at night, so she spots Oliver easily and immediately holds out her arms. “Isä, Isä,” she says, still crying. “Pick up me.”

Oliver rolls out of bed and scoops her up. “Hi sweet baby girl,” he murmurs, cradling her close.

Blake's heart whomps hard against his rib cage at the sight.

“Yes, Isä’s home,” Oliver says. “I missed you so much.” He settles in the bed with his back against the headboard.

Jocelyn’s head is on his shoulder and she's peering down at Blake. She holds out a tiny hand and Blake offers her a finger. She grasps it tightly. “Isä,” she says, with just a lingering shudder of tears.

Blake smiles, his sexual frustration ebbing in the glow of comfort Jocelyn finds in Oliver. It's the beginning of the season. Last year she’d been an infant, sleeping more often than not. This year she’s a full-fledged toddler and the three of them had spent a lot of time together in the off season, especially Oliver and Jocelyn because Blake still works part time as a personal assistant for a local attorney. Oliver relishes caring for her when Blake works.

Job wise, it's a far cry from the “more” both his parents and the Secretary envisioned for him a few years ago. It's a far cry from what he envisioned for himself once upon a time.

Life-wise, however, he never could have imagined himself married—married!—to an athlete, to a hockey player of all things. Nothing short of true love would have enticed him to Texas. And being bisexual meant that kids were always a vague possibility, although he’d never felt a huge desire to procreate. Oliver had wanted kids though and how could Blake say no?

Trying to imagine life without Oliver or Jocelyn in it is impossible.

It doesn't take long for Jocelyn to fall asleep, and instead of carrying her back to bed and taking a chance she wakes up, Oliver slides down and rolls her into the space between them. She clings and whimpers her distress, and yeah, good call, but Oliver's deep murmur and large hand to her back sooth her and she settles between them. With a huge shuddering sigh, she's out. It's not often she gets to sleep in their bed, but as his mother has said on multiple occasions since Jocelyn's appearance in their life, “It won't be like this for long.”

Blake closes his eyes too and falls asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Mid-April 2021**

“Daddy, Daddy,” Jocelyn shrieks. “I pee-peed!”

Blake’s in the kitchen and Jocelyn’s not. It sounds like she could be in the bathroom, based on the echo, but her history hasn’t been great. He turns off the stove, pushes the skillet to the back burner, and races down the hall.

He stops in the doorway to the downstairs bathroom and sighs.

Jocelyn’s standing there pointing to a yellow puddle on the floor in front of one of the three small plastic toilets they own. Her underwear is in a ball next to the trashcan and her tubby legs glisten with moisture.

“See.” She points, looking pleased with herself.

“I asked you five minutes ago if you had to potty and you said no,” Blake says. “Why did you pee on the floor?”

The pleased look leaves her face. “I pee-peed,” she says again.

“I see that,” Blake says on a sigh.

To be fair, she made it to the bathroom, which is an improvement over the wet spots on the carpets that they’ve deep cleaned twice in as many months.

“I have chips?”

“No chips.”

“Want chips, Daddy,” she wails, stomping her pudgy little legs.

Who’s bright idea was it to use a reward system? Oh, right. His.

“Chips are for little girls who pee in the potty.” Blake pulls a towel from under the sink and plops it on the small puddle. “Not for little girls who pee on the floor.”

“Want chips,” she yells.

He has no idea where her temper came from. Oliver has never shown any sort of stubbornness and Blake himself is pretty even-keeled. Must be the terrible twos he’s heard so much about. But she’s only nineteen months old…isn’t it a little too soon?

Putting on his stern voice, he says, “You don’t yell at Daddy. Now put your underwear back on and go sit in your chair.”

As expected, her bottom lip juts out and tears float on her bottom lids. “I no want tout.”

With a couple of baby wipes, he wipes down her legs and and hands her one to clean her personal areas with. “You get time out for yelling at me. That’s a no no. Now put on your underwear and go sit.”

She looks up at him mulishly.

“Would you prefer a swat to your hiney?”

She covers said hiney with both hands and shakes her head hard, the fluffy wheat-colored curls floating back and forth.

Blake cocks his head and glances at the pink wad of underwear. “Well?”

Jocelyn plops on the floor and feeds her legs into the leg holes and gets her underpants on inside out and backwards before hustling into the kitchen. She sits and Blake turns over the one-minute sand timer and goes back to browning ground beef for spaghetti.

“Sorry, Daddy, sorry…” she whines the whole time.

Blake sighs.

* * *

**Mid-May 2021**

“Jocelyn Isabella Moran,” Oliver says loudly.

Loud enough for Blake to hear him from the other end of the house. The tone can only mean one thing. Jocelyn has failed to make it to the toilet yet again.

Blake makes his way to the playroom, where he’d left the two of them not so long ago to hit the rowing machine for a quick workout and then a shower.

They’ve been at the potty training since mid-March. Oliver’d been gone more than he’d been home with more road games than home games to close out the regular season, but when your kid shows interest in giving up diapers, you go with it. It’s now mid-May. Oliver and the Stars have been fighting tooth and nail to stay alive in the playoffs. They’d taken out the Blackhawks in six; it took seven to eliminate the Preds. Now they were two and two against the Knights in the Western Conference Final. The next game was here at home tomorrow night.

Blake steps into the playroom and stops short. He stabs his bottom teeth into his lip to keep from laughing at the scene in front of him. Oliver stands with his hands on his hips, exasperated expression pointed at Jocelyn standing in a puddle at the bottom of her toddler slide, hands on her hips and grinning up at Oliver.

Blake has stopped sweating the misses although he still celebrates the hits. Until Oliver is home for good and life isn’t so topsy turvy and the anxiety and suspense surrounding each and every remaining game is no longer hanging over all their heads, Isabella isn’t going to be completely potty trained. Oliver is understandably stressed out.

“Look, Daddy,” she says when she spots Blake. “I peed.”

“Jocelyn, that’s not where you pee and you know that. Go get the cleaning bucket.”

Her face falls and her little shoulders slump.

Black had put together a small cleaning kit. Multiple smaller rags meant she had to get her hands dirty and vinegar water in a spray bottle made her wrinkle her nose every time. The hope had been that cleaning up after herself would act as a deterrent. Mostly it is, but again, with everything going on with the playoffs, life in general is off kilter. So.

She huffs and not-quite-stomps her way into the bathroom off the playroom.

Blake steps close to Oliver, rocks up on his toes and kisses him. “Hey, babe, don’t stress about this okay? Focus on hockey and just being present with her when you’re home. We’ll work on this in earnest later, all right?” While Oliver isn’t extremely superstitious, Blake tries not to reference the end of Oliver’s season either way, doesn’t want to jinx things.

Oliver lets out a huge sigh and tugs Blake into a hug. “Yeah, okay. God, I love you. I owe you so much.”

“Yes, you do, when your parents come to visit, you owe me a night at The Joule Hotel and—”

Jocelyn returns with the bucket banging against her leg and dutifully sets to work.

Blake raises an eyebrow. Oliver nods. “Done.”

“Pee pee is yucky.”

“Well, stop peeing on the floor,” Oliver says.

Once she’s done, Blake says, “Put that in the bathroom and go sit in your chair.”

At this point, she’s given up fighting it. She hauls the bucket into the bathroom and then goes to sit in the small plastic time-out chair located in this room. They’ve got a half-dozen of those scattered around the house.

Oliver tugs Blake to the love seat and they cuddle while they wait out her two-minute punishment.

“How long is potty training supposed to take?” Oliver asks.

“It takes as long as it takes,” Blake says.

“What does that even mean?”

“Every child is different. In the grand scheme of things,” Blake’s learned, “it won't be like this for long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the length of time it's taken me to finish this little saga. Life, as it does, got busy, but this unfinished tale has been nagging me for a few weeks and now it's done.


	5. Chapter 5

**August 2024**

Blake’s alarm chimes quietly beside him, but he’s already awake. He wishes Oliver were still in bed. Blake would roll close for a cuddle and maybe some heavy petting, but Oliver’s up and out on his morning run.

Blake sighs. Jocelyn starts Kindergarten today. Thankfully, school starts in August in Texas. Which means Oliver and Blake can both take Jocelyn to school together. Thank God, because Blake’s dreading it.

It was a fight every day last year for Pre-K. She cried from the car to the classroom door. Her cries of “I wanna go home with my daddy.” haunted him down the school corridor and out the doors for a month. Jocelyn’s teacher assured him she was fine within five minutes. And he believed her. Jocelyn was always happy when he picked her up, chattering about her day and her classmates. After that first month though, it’d just been a chore. He doesn’t want another year like that.

Blake rolls from bed, gets his shower, gets dressed and starts breakfast.

“Morning, kultsi,” Oliver says, coming in through the garage door, sodden as if he’d been caught in a downpour rather than out for a jog. Texas humidity’ll do that. Oliver presses a kiss to the back of Blake’s neck. “Big day today.”

Blake just nods, swallows back the emotion clogging his throat. His baby girl, his first born, starts Kindergarten. He didn’t think he’d be hit this hard by her going to school—she attended Pre-K last year, for Pete’s sake. Aside from the crying, it was a Godsend.

After Oliver doctors his coffee, he says, “I’ll get cleaned up and then wake our girl.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“I’m ready,” announces Jocelyn, coming into the kitchen, dressed in the outfit they’d chosen last night and with her backpack on. Her hair is still a riot, however. It tugs Blake’s mouth into a bit of a smile.

“Or not,” says Oliver with a chuckle. “I’ll take care of Niko then. Be back in a bit.”

Blake clears his throat, takes a swig of his coffee. “Morning, kitten. Take your backpack off and have a seat.”

“Can’t we go now?” she asks with a stomp of one foot.

“School’s not open now. It’s too early.”

Jocelyn harrumphs and climbs into her booster.

~*~*~

There’s a line of cars pulling into the school parking lot. Looks like a lot of parents are escorting their kids inside. Well, maybe not the older kids—Blake sees a lot of older boys and girls just exiting cars along the curb and heading into the building with siblings or on their own.

Open House was last week and the four of them had come to find Jocelyn’s classroom and meet her teacher. Surprisingly, the teacher is a man, mid-twenties maybe. Blake had been disappointed only because Jocelyn has a lot of men in her life and having a woman teacher would have been a nice contrast. But Jocelyn had taken to Mr. Shore more easily than she had to her teacher last year.

Oliver pulls into a parking slot and Blake unlatches his seat belt, bracing himself for the whining.

“I’m going to _Kinnie-garden_ , Niko,” Jocelyn says.

And hmm…

“ _Kinnie-garden_ ,” Niko says.

Blake settles Niko on his hip and Oliver helps Jocelyn from her booster seat and slides her pink backpack onto her shoulders.

Blake’s still waiting for the breakdown, a cold ball of worry in the pit of his stomach, but Jocelyn skips— _skips?_ —ahead of them up the walkway.

She waits at the door for them to catch up and tries to pull it open for them, but it’s a little too heavy for her five-year-old strength. Oliver helps.

“Isä, hold me,” Niko says halfway down the hall filled with students and parents, throwing his arms and his body weight toward Oliver. Oliver plucks him easily from Blake’s arms and smacks a kiss to his pudgy cheek.

Niko claps and says, “Jossy go _‘chool_.”

“Yes, Jossy’s going to school,” Oliver replies.

Jocelyn’s disappearing around the corner and Blake hustles to catch up enough to keep her in his sights. She’s standing in a line outside her classroom behind a couple of other kids and their parents. Mr. Shore is at the door greeting everybody.

“Good morning, Jocelyn,” he says, just as Oliver and Blake reach her. “Hello, Mr. Moran, Mr. Linna. Hi, Niko.” He jiggles Niko’s fist.

Niko offers a toothy grin in return. “Hi. Jossy go _‘chool_.”

Mr. Shore grins. “Yes, she is. Pretty soon you’ll be in school, too.”

Niko squirms to get down, pushing away from Oliver with hands and knees. “Wanna stay Jossy.”

Oliver hitches him up. “You can’t, bub.”

Jocelyn has taken off across the classroom to the row of cubbyholes on the far wall, she’s chattering with the little boy next to her.

Suddenly, Blake’s vision is blurry and he blinks hard to clear it. It’s not that he wants Jocelyn to cry and carry on and cling to him like she had last year, but a good-bye would have been nice. He clears his throat. He really shouldn’t be this verklempt.

Oliver’s arm slips around his shoulder. “She’s not a baby anymore.”

“Go Jossy,” calls Niko, pointing toward his sister, squirming mightily.

“You have to go home with Daddy and me. We’re going to the store.”

“Store?” Niko stops wriggling. “Buy me crains, please.”

“Only our kid prefers craisins to raisins.” Oliver shakes his head and ruffles Niko’s head of white blond fluff.

Just then, Jocelyn looks up and around, searching for them. She smiles wide when she spots them, blue eyes big and happy, and then waves. “Bye, Daddy. Bye, Isä.”

Blake waves back, heart heavy. “I guess that’s our cue to go.”

“Say bye bye to Jossy,” Oliver says to Niko, pointing at Jocelyn.

Niko waves with the flappy hand of babies everywhere. “Bye, Jossy,” he yells.

“Bye, Niko,” she calls back, waving.

With Oliver’s arm around him once more, they walk through a less crowded hall and out into the August sunshine.

“It seems like just yesterday, we brought her home,” Blake says.

“Remember colic?” Oliver asks.

“Ugh. Remember teething?”

“I remember you calling me in Tampa late one night, close to tears yourself.”

“Don’t remind me. Heat flashes across Blake’s face. That was not one of his finer daddy or husband moments. “Remember potty training? You were convinced she’d never get the hang of it. That’d we’d have to strip all the carpeting and put in Linoleum.”

Oliver chuckles.

“And now we’re going through it all again. What were we thinking?”

Oliver presses a kiss to Blake’s forehead before they part ways to get into the car.

* * *

They run errands on the way home and by the time they reach the house, Blake’s nerves are sparking and his pants feel a bit snug. Oliver’s been hovering around him like a bee around a soda can, buzzing and fluttering, bestowing kisses like sips of nectar, lavishing touches like a peek-a-book breeze on a hot summer day.

Oliver’s got him pinned against the door in the pantry, sucking at his pulse. His large hands are tight around Blake’s wrists. His erection rubs against Blake’s through four layers of clothing. Blake’s blood thrums in his veins, and he wants to be naked, like now. He wants skin on skin and beard burn, the stretch of muscle and the fullness that comes from—

“Isä, no kiss Daddy.” Niko pushes at both of them, one hand on each of their legs.

Blake’s blazing desire hisses and steams in the face of their son’s dousing. Oliver pulls back with one last kiss. Blake sighs.

“Want my crains. Where my crains?”

“We’ll feed baby boy and put him down for a nap,” Oliver says, with a last kiss before scooping Niko up and tossing him in the air, eliciting shrieks of laughter.

Blake puts some shredded chicken and peas and carrots on a paper plate and sets it on Niko’s high chair tray.

“No want peas,” Niko says, pushing them to the side with an index finger. “Want crains.”

“Eat your chicken.” Blake hands him a fork. “Then you can have craisins.”

Niko says no, but shovels in a bite anyway.

Oliver slides his arms around Blake’s waist and nibbles on his ear. “I wanna do wicked dirty things with you, babe.”

Want spikes a shiver through him. “Mmm…yeah.” They don’t get this leisure time for much longer. Training camp starts in a few weeks and then life will revolve around hockey once again.

Niko gazes up at them. “Isä kiss me too.”

Oliver obliges and raspberries his little neck.

“Eat please,” Blake says. He loves his kids. He really, really does, but right now he longs for the first summer he and Oliver got together when they spent a lot of time in bed and they had only themselves to consider.

“Me have milk?”

“I’ll get it,” Oliver says. With a fingertip, he tilts Blake’s face up and slides their lips together, then he pushes Blake in the direction of the stairs. “Go wait for me. Take a shower. Do _whatever_.”

“Oh, God,” Blake murmurs.

Oliver grabs a sippy cup and pours it half full of milk.

“No top,” Niko says, kicking the high chair. “Niko big boy.”

Blake leaves Oliver to their son and heads upstairs. After showering and preparing, he wanders around their large bedroom in nothing but his boxer briefs. The three large windows overlook the large backyard filled with kid paraphernalia. He’s a far cry away from the tiny apartment he’d had in D.C. where his neighbor’s windows were less than ten feet from his own.

Deep murmured singing reaches his ears. Oliver is singing lullabies to Niko. God, Blake loves that man. Never, as a teen or a young adult, had Blake imagined a life like this. Imagined himself as the _keeping-the-home-fires-burning_ half of a couple. He’d envisioned himself in a job similar to his position when working for the Secretary. Maybe needing his degree a little more. More of a power couple. Working long hours and living a fast-paced life.

But he’d fallen in love with an athlete. A hockey player. And he moved to Texas, where, contrary to what he’d always heard, no one seems to give a rat’s ass that he and Oliver are married and have kids.

Oliver and Niko’s conversation in Finnish and baby-babble filters through the baby monitor and then the bedroom door snicks shut and a few moments later, Oliver’s broad body is behind him. His large hands slide around Blake’s waist and up his chest, brushing over his nipples. Oliver sucks the skin at the join of Blake’s neck and shoulder and he moans his pleasure.

Blake turns in the circle of Oliver’s strong arms and kisses him, nipping at his lips, licking into his mouth until Oliver seals their lips together and fucks Blake’s mouth with his tongue. Both their penises shift and move as their combined arousal increases and feeds off the other’s.

A shiver tears through Blake when Oliver’s calloused hands slide over his ass and lift him by his thighs. Oliver’s strength is a huge turn-on. Blake hitches his thighs and knees around Oliver’s hips and is transported to the king-sized bed. With a knee on the mattress and a strong arm around Blake’s back, he’s laid down.

Niko’s contented babbles filter in through the baby monitor, cool air swirls across the bed as the AC whirs to life against the upper 90s temperatures outside, and bright rays of sunlight shaft across the flooring, lighting up the room.

Some time later, when Niko has quieted and the AC has shut off for the moment, Blake comes down from his orgasm. All two hundred and ten pounds of Oliver is plastered to his side. Despite the fact that they’re both sticky and sweaty and the sheets will need to be changed, he’s not in any hurry.

It— _it_ being life as they know it—won’t be like this for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original research into which Dallas Stars had kids when I started this fic late in 2017 was apparently not very thorough as Ben Bishop and his wife did not have their first child until spring of 2018. But they have a son now, so I'm not changing it. And as mentioned at the end of chapter 4, Kari Lehtonen is no longer a Dallas Star.


End file.
